Oh, crap. As last words go, it wasn’t what you’d call memorable. But as the icy darkness fell, I was dimly aware of a voice speaking to me very close, like the voice of the sea inside a shell, before the darkness engulfed me at last, body, mind and what passes for soul.

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Always look on the bright side.
And if there is no bright side?
Look away.

Lokabrenna

EVERYONE THOUGHT I WAS DEAD.

Well, technically speaking, I guess I was – but Dream is a river than runs through Nine Worlds, and in the aftermath of Chaos’s triumph, my physical and ephemeral Aspects were separated one from the other for good, and my ephemeral Aspect was dragged, not to Hel, where I had hoped for an early release – Hel had sworn an oath, after all, and such oaths are not lightly broken – but into Netherworld itself, the antechamber of Chaos.

There, Dream rules in its darkest form, and every nightmare is played out. Chaos isn’t forgiving to those who try to defy it. Even less so to traitors – and I, of course, was both.

I shan’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t fun. A cell built from my deepest fears, and guarded by a demon especially chosen to keep me subdued.

A snake, of course. It’s always a snake.

Not my finest moment.

But I was not alone there. Those who had fallen before Surt’s arrival had been ferried straight to Hel; but when the black wing descended, and Pandaemonium was unleashed, some of the surviving gods were dragged into Netherworld alongside me, while the rest fell into darkness, or Dream, or Hel, or Pandaemonium. Gullveig-Heid took my place alongside Surt, who gave her a new, fiery Aspect. Now she was Burning Ambition; more ruthless and destructive than Wildfire had ever been. Well, I guess she’d earned it. I half expected her to call and visit me in my new cell – to gloat or to commiserate – but she never did.

I know. Not a happy conclusion, but you already knew how this would end. Everyone dies, or disappears, or fades into oblivion. Let’s face it, that’s how all stories end, once you reach the final page. There’s no happy-ever-after for anyone, least of all the gods, who, if they’re lucky, get to rule the world for a while before another tribe takes over.

As for Asgard, it too fell under Surt’s extended wing, onto the plain of Ida, showering most of World’s End with cantrips and broken rune fragments.

And the Folk?